


Sometimes we have to make up reasons to talk to our crushes

by pandaspots



Series: Nothing says 'I love you' like a bunch of corpses [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, M/M, gore mention, rewriting, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandaspots/pseuds/pandaspots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey guys i rewrote this!</p><p> </p><p>Jean is an FBI agent and someone has a killer crush on him. Literally. He has no idea how things got to this point, but he figures threatening the sicko he will do anything to see him cuffed and locked up has something to do with it.</p><p>the serial killer au no one asked about is back with about 700% more sick jokes imbued in the writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If you liked then you shoulda put a ring on it

**Author's Note:**

> aaayyyyy lmao i rewrote this thing!
> 
> i'd like to thank the serial killer in 2003 for answering my shitty questions, my mother for marking on my Susi doll where to stab if you don't mean to kill but injure and incapacitate for weeks, and my sister for having some sick jokes. and my wonderful friends ducere, remmy and nicole for putting up with my shitty self while i rewrote this thing.
> 
> pay attention because i finally tied the loose knots

" _'Mr FBI Agent Kirstein, I must say your ass looks fabulous in suits. Saw you on TV, I think you'd look better with an emerald green tie, though (so you'd have something to remember me by~). You almost caught me the other day, but I'd loathe to stop sending you these letters, my small tokens of affection. I hope you can, once again, appreciate the intricacies of the human body turned art. Your voice is like molten chocolate when talking about how fucked up in the brain I am (though I'd really like you to fuck my brains out).'_ Less than three." Connie read out loud for the entire bureau to hear.

 

Jean hid his face in his hands and tried not to scream.

 

"Connie, give it back."

 

"First Marco, who flipped and almost murdered Sasha because she kissed you on the cheek, now a cannibal serial killer who also paints the entire crime scene with blood and has terrorized _twenty states_ in a little over six months develops a hardcore crush on you. Way to go, man!" Reiner called from overhead.

 

"I hope you all choke on your coffee." He muttered.

 

"Aw, c'mon man, it's pretty funny! Now if this Hannibal junior would just step up and surrender... Do you think offering to give into his demands of steamy sex would bring him forward so we can arrest him for the rest of his life?" Connie mused, scratching his bald head.

 

"Oh, shut up, Connie, this is serious, I think this little shit is now killing just to get our attention." He hissed.

 

"More like _your_ attention, Kirstein." Levi waltzed into the room with a huge file Jean learned to fear. It was the media dubbed Bloody Painter's. "Get your asses to the conference room, we got another one from the little shit, and he painted some interesting stuff on the walls this time."

 

* * *

 

 

Jean was _still_ in the denial stage.

 

He was holding the pictures _and_ the evidence bag with the lewd letter, and he was in denial.

 

_ 'Mr FBI Agent Kirstein, this is me making a point. You really look better with an emerald green tie. I almost had to jerk off on the spot when I finished because wow. Makes me imagine how the color would contrast with your mahogany headboard and red  bed sheets , tying my hands while you fucked me into the mattress. They do say that if you liked you should put a ring on it, so I'm leaving the ring here. Just for shits and giggles, though, it's plastic and I doubt they'd actually let you keep it if I gave you mom's ring. Wow, now I'm thinking about your fingers, I really should stop, my fingers aren't nearly as long as yours, and it really ruins it. I heard media is calling me The Bloody Painter, can you ask them to stop? I'd much rather they'd call me Body Carver. You know, focus on the actual art which is the human body. Can't wait to explore yours~' _

 

The pictures were of a fucking bloody painting (literally) of him wearing suit and a goddamned green tie (the cheeky bastard had the nerve to bring up fucking food dye), and a plastic golden ring. Inside the ring was beautifully engraved "J&E". 'J' obviously stood for Jean, and 'E' told them absolutely nothing, except this kid could be making engravings for a living.

 

"His penmanship is astounding. I've never seen a handwriting so beautiful typing such dirty words." Levi mused. "I would say we're dealing with a woman, but if he was a girl, she would've complained by now. I'm also appalled at your ability to attract murderers, Kirstein, I think you should start considering protection."

 

"Oh, no, not you too."

 

"There's something weird with this map." Dr. Arlert said suddenly, startling half the room. Sometimes they forgot the short blond was even there. He normally kept to his room in Techs.

 

"What is it, Arlert?" Levi demanded.

 

"I don't know, something's just _odd_. I mean, he murdered _twice_ at some places and he seems all over the place, but it's not, I don't think he's murdering at random, I think he's following some kind of route, or preplanned path."

 

They all looked at the board. It did look like lines at some places. They taped all the cities with different colors for different brutality degrees (sometimes he went easy, sometimes there was barely anything left to send back to the family), and the chronological order of it made no sense, though the actual layout of the thing was actually starting to look like something.

 

"But as you were talking, I noticed we established his type as young, successful males, good looking and who lived alone, estranged from their families. Jean, you fit in there, isn't your family from across the country?" Armin continued.

 

Jean saw his entire life flash in front of his eyes.

 

He was a murderer magnet and he was _just_ the type of one of the most brutal and ruthless serial killers he's ever seen.

 

Suddenly he wished he was ugly.

 

* * *

 

He was drinking his pain at the realization he might not live to see the end of this when a knock on the door pulled him out of his reverie. Looking through the eyelet, he could only see high cheekbones, brown hair and tanned skin.

 

"How can I help you?" He opened the door just as much as the lock let him, a hand sneaking into the drawer in the small coffee table by the door.

 

"Uh, I'm sorry, I just moved here and as you can see," the man pointed to the house immediately to his front, "the fumigation is taking a lot, and I don't have anywhere to go, I can't even rent a hotel room. Would you mind if I slept on your couch?" He asked and Jean must've been drunker than he gave himself credit for, because he had the most beautiful smile he's ever seen and dark green eyes that should've been illegal.

 

"It's okay." He found himself unlocking the door, letting the other man in.

 

"Thank you, uh?"

 

"Jean."

 

"Eren."

 

"Nice to meet you."

 

"Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, but were you drinking?" The guy smiles again and Jean felt his legs melting.

 

"Ah, yeah, sorry, rough day at work." He apologized. "This way, please, I could use some company."

 

He ended up offering Eren a glass of wine that ended up turning into several cans of beers. Also ended up with Eren bouncing on his lap, kiss-biting his lips, almost as if he wanted to eat him.

 

"Shit." The blond cursed when his watch got tangled on the fibers of the other's sweater, which was a little oversized, but looked good on him. Eren just giggled, grinding their clothed erections together.

 

"Just pull it off. Fuck, fuck _me_ , Jean, fuck my mouth for all I care, just get your dick in me." He moaned, begging, almost ripping Jean's shirt's buttons off.

 

"Bedroom." He managed before hoisting Eren in his arms and if they almost ended up doing it up against a wall, it was Eren's fault. Not Jean's, who kept slamming him on them, of course.

 

The first thing he did when he threw the other male on the bed was take his pants off, followed by his boxers and jean's own pair of formal  slacks and underwear. He opened the nightstand's drawer to pull out lube (fuck the condoms at this point), which Eren promptly snatched from his hands and put on his left hand, lifting up a little just to quickly lather his erect penis with just the bare minimum of the slippery gel.

 

" _Fuck. Me._ " He said with an intensity Jean doubted he'd have to be drunk to comply, positioning and finding himself slightly surprised to find little to no resistance on the way in. " _Ooh, yes_ , way, way better than my fingers..." Was the last thing he said and soon Jean was thrusting away, enticed by the loud moaning and keening noises the other made.

 

The bed rattled a little, and Eren's nails left red stinging trails on his back, while his mouth was more preoccupied in leaving as much evidence of this as possible on his neck. He probably already broke the skin, if the faint stinging were anything to go by. As the other man went limp in his arms, he faintly chastised himself for not even caring about the other's dick, and just selfishly kept going until he was done, coming with a grunt and a shout.

 

"You're so quiet fucking." Eren giggled. Well, he wasn't sad for coming without even touching his own cock, so Jean wouldn't too.

 

"And you're so loud. It evens out." He sighed right back, cock slipping out of Eren as it went limp, moving just slightly, feeling cuddly.

 

He passed out as soon as Eren stopped moving.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to the sound of sirens, his cellphone ringing and no Eren.

 

"What." He said, answering the phone and promptly putting it into speakerphone.

 

"Get ready and get dressed, someone got murdered in the house right in front of yours." He heard Petra, one of the senior agents, say and hang up.

 

Suddenly he was all too awake. The clock read 12PM. _Fuck_ , he thought. As he moved on the bed, he heard the sound of paper. He cursed loudly, searching his bed until he found the source of the sound.

 

_ 'Hey, I had to wake up early, the guys from the fumigation company called, and I had an appointment with a bored rich young hag. I ended up eating your food, but I made some pancakes if you want to eat. _

 

_ Last night was amazing. I wish I could've stayed for a morning quickie, but I couldn't. <3 Eren' _

 

The 'n' flared up with a little heart.

 

He breathed out. So there weren't any mass murderers breaking into his house while he was asleep.

 

He showered and got dressed at the speed of light, noticing the big stack of pancake with actual whipped chantilly (he found the rest in his fridge; was this guy even real?) and diced strawberries. He opened his door and let his colleagues enter.

 

"Whoa, got yourself a girlfriend, Kirstein?" Connie asked, looking at the food. Jean grimaced.

 

"Drunken one night stand, though I might have to revise this later, this thing is actual homemade chantilly, not these cheap shit we buy, man." He cut the pancake and shoved in his mouth.

 

"Okay, if you're done telling people you're proposing, here are the facts. It was our  cross country  unsub , but we found no little love letter." Levi stared at Jean as if it was his fault. "Body was mutilated horribly, there are missing bits from the thighs, and the bastard brought his food dye again, because under black light it was an almost perfect reproduction of Monet's Waterlilies."

 

"I was starting to wonder what was this guy's evolution from past to recent murders." Petra had a thoughtful air. "He's now perfecting his style and expanding, alright, but not in the terms of the killed people. It's like human life holds no meaning for him. What really matters are the paintings."

 

"He's a _serial killer_ , Petra, he's bound to seeing no point in other people's lives. Except Jean's, apparently." Connie butted in, helping himself to Jean's mandarins. "But anyway, he's a psychopath with a high mobility. He's gots to have loads of money."

 

Levi groaned.

 

"So we're looking at someone who's probably gonna be really difficult to put in jail. I didn't need the reminder, Springer, _thanks_. We're going to _NEED_ having to catch the bastard very literally red handed to even stand a chance jailing him until his execution."

 

"I hate this case." Jean mumbled and everyone groaned in agreement.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sometimes I wonder, what kind of manic homicidal serial murderer goes all the way up on the _fucking_ Rockies, in _fucking_ Idaho, in the _fucking_ winter." Jean whined.

 

"A rich one." Connie quipped back. "Hey, Reiner, how much left until the house? I've never been so eager to get to a crime scene."

 

"A little more. Hey, Jean, did you hear from your hottie housewife-material neighbor again?"

 

"No. Guy's apparently never home. I saw a woman at his house, though."

 

"Oh. Ohoho. So dude's _married_? Jean, your taste definitely is broken."

 

A fistful of snow was Connie's punishment for his troubles.

 

As they got there, Levi handed Jean an evidence bag.

 

_ 'Dear Jean _

 

_ As you can see, I decided to breathe some mountain air, but god! My companion was a total dead weight, what a drag, haha ;) _

 

_ What you said about my art wasn't nice, I'm hurt. As you can see, I'm back to originals. God, can't we flirt with the classics? I'm a man of many talents, you see. I wish you could see sober my bedroom ones, I guarantee you'd love it. Also, I noticed last press conference you actually wore a green tie, I'm pleased. I hope you were thinking of me <3 _

 

_ I like that you referred to our little correspondence as my 'criminal signature', and it's cute that you think I skipped it in Washington. It just happens that I didn't. _

 

_ Also, you should learn to close your windows, seeing you jack off just... Ugh let me ride you, dare you to make me gag; I think I'm in love with your cock.' _

 

"Good Lord, he gets worse and worse..." The young agent whispered, and something about this letter seemed off. "Wait. Sober. Thinking of him."

 

"You look like you need to take a shit, Kirstein." Levi noted as Jean pulled up his phone.

 

"Armin, pull up the map with the unsub's crime places." He said as soon as the tech picked up.

 

_ "Alright, jeez, what crawled up your ass and  _ died _?" _

 

"Now play connect the dots."

 

_ "What." _

 

"What are you going on about, Kirstein?" His superior demanded.

 

"He mentioned things in this note. 'I wish you could see sober'. His obsession with the green tie. Washington's lack of crime scene note. Also," He made a gagging noise before continuing, "the only place he could've seen me from my window without setting off my alarms would be the  neighbor's house."

 

_ "Should I do this  chronological \-- oh."  _ A rmin started but quickly stopped himself. " _ E-r-e-n and the 'n' extends into a little heart." _

 

"Eren. It's a name. He's about my height, brown hair, green eyes, tanned skin, about my age . He mentioned an appointment, so look for doctors with that name." He offered Armin and heard his fingers tap out.

 

"Are you trying to tell me-- put that shit on speakerphone." Levi ordered.

 

_ "Here. Found him. Eren Jäger, plastic surgeon, son of deceased Dr.  Grisha Jäger and schoolteacher Karla;  _ _has been in social services for a while, his longest foster care was under the Ackermans, who had one daughter, Mikasa. At age nine he beat half to death two kids aged fifteen who tried to abuse his foster sister. He's apparently very protective of her, seeing as most of the things in his record were listed off as him defending her."_ Armin supplied, efficiently in that way he always was.

 

"What about Mikasa? If they're so attached something happened to her." Jean demanded, glaring at the painting on the wall. An Asian girl with flowing hair depicted in an almost angelic lighting. He assumed this was Mikasa.

 

_"She... Was assaulted five days ago. She posted on her twitter feed that she and Eren were going to the Rockies for vacations. I'm guessing this guy wasn't so much a victim chosen at sorta random as much as he touched his possessions the wrong way."_ Armin scrolled at maximum speed, trying to see a trigger in the man's behavior. _"This all seem like, while not planned, he waits for the wrong guy to cross his sister. He acts like a psychopath on a mission."_ The tech concluded over the phone. " _Also, he is Agent Kirstein's neighbor."_

 

"Also, Levi, sir, I'd like to drop the case. I'm afraid I might be emotionally involved." He said, trembling a bit.

 

"Why, the letters finally got to you, Jean?" Hollered Reiner, and Connie elbowed him.

 

When Connie of all people noticed something, it was always big and generally kinda game changing.

 

"He's your mystery booty call, isn't he? Our serial killer." Scratching his buzz cut, he looked pointedly at Jean. Suddenly Reiner made a noise not unlike gagging when it caught up with him.

 

"Ugh. And he was good too, I need away from this mess." He rubbed his temples, walking away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

 

"Kirstein, I want to see you in my office when we get back to DC. Got it?" Levi said and he couldn't help but salute.

 

"Yes sir."

 

* * *

 

 

He was chewed out by his boss. It didn't help the BAU supervisor (Armin's actual boss) wanted to know why his analyst wasn't available when he called.

 

"Your friends aren't up for grabs on the clock, Kirstein." The tall, scary blond guy Agent Smith said.

 

Jean sighed, slumping down on his couch and yelping when the emergency pager dug on his ass. He dug it off his pocket, and placed it on his coffee table.

 

"Help me, I've gotten myself stabbed, call life alert." He laughed humorlessly.

 

As if on cue, his doorbell rang. He grabbed his emergency pager, his Glock and his keys, and headed to the door. One look through the eyelet told him that yes, his hot serial killer was indeed outside his door. He opened the drawer in the table and put his pistol in; direct confrontation was futile and dangerous when a psychopath was in a seemingly good mood. He pulled his phone and sent a quick text to Levi:

 

_ "srial killr on my doorstp, ill let u kno if sth happns" _

 

He knew Levi hated that kind of typing, but he had no time for more, as angry knocks were heard. He unlocked the door and was greeted with a kiss. They stumbled inside, kicking the door shut, mouths connected, Jean walking backwards until he felt his back against something cold. His kitchen half wall.

 

Eren didn't look like he killed over 100 full grown men, nor like an accomplished plastic surgeon. He was wearing another oversized sweater, and jeans, and a bunny bell slipper.

 

"So, did you get my gift?" He asked in the most innocent tone, and Jean thought it was a test. If he said no, Eren would assume they didn't find out anything. If he said yes... Then he wasn't sure what happened. But this was probably their best chance at getting the bastard in jail. And maybe he'd be able to do intimate visits in jail... What was he even thinking.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Did you like it?" You could feel the crazy coming in waves, and Jean knew he was fucked because he thought it was kind of endearing. He shook his head; just a few weeks ago he thought this was the sickest thing ever.

 

He really was crazy magnet.

 

"Not really. I don't like corpses, in particular. I'm kind of a more traditional guy." He measured his words, carefully crafting the sentence. Eren's slippers clinked as he shoved Jean in what looked like betrayal. "No, don't worry, it's not like that. You're the _only_ mass murderer in my life."

 

That seemed to cheer him up, his hands going into Jean's shirt and he could feel properly the roughness of it, being pulled closer to the killer and having to fight back a smile when he meekly touched their lips together.

 

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" Another trick question, he wondered. If Eren's killing sprees were really set off by sexual reasons, he'd better think his response over.

 

"Only if you want." Was Jean's diplomatic answer, closing his eyes. Five seconds went by and there was no surgically placed knife to his vital organs, so he peeked at the tiny murderer, and saw his pretty little face contorted in mild confusion, as if he didn't expect that particular answer. "What's wrong, babe?"

 

"No one has ever said that before." His voice was small and a bit touched. "Seems like there's one man on earth besides me that isn't a complete jerk." If you looked at this man right now, you wouldn't be able to tell he was responsible for one of America's largest killing sprees. Jean pressed the button of his life alert before he lost all courage to do so.

 

He didn't count on _all hell breaking loose_ , though.

 

His team was outside his house, with blaring sirens, in a matter of seconds, and just as quick, he heard cursing and felt a sharp jab on his stomach, followed by the sound of someone grabbing at kitchen knives.

 

"Why did you do that?" Eren's voice was suddenly cold, and the swift transition didn't even sound out of place.

 

"Just," he paused to gasp for air; that midget knew how to hit, like his supervisor, "doing my job."

 

Too many things happened at once.

 

At the same time he felt something enter his side in a practiced diagonal just below his ribcage, he heard his door get kicked open, Levi yelling for Eren to drop the knife. The second stab hit him at a point mid-chest, and a shot rang out, his assailant letting out a loud sob but not losing his grip on the knife. It was probably Connie, his aim was shit. A third stab on his left side, in a downward diagonal, and another shot, this time right through Eren's left shoulder, and he gasped, dropping the knife. That one was Sasha's doing. His fading vision told him Eren tried to get the knife with his right hand but then Levi and Reiner were restraining him. The rest was a faint blur.

 

When he woke up at the hospital, Armin was there, and he was informed Levi called him an idiot.

 

"And Eren?" He asked, numb from all the painkillers and morphine.

 

"The _unsub_ ," he put special emphasis in unsub, "is under custody. He's been asking an awful lot about you, and his sister even visited you once. She requested to talk to you, but I don't know if you'd be well enough to do it."

 

"Yeah. I mean. Send her in, what could happen?" He said blearily, and Armin sighed.

 

"She could try to kill you, for one. We went to collect her and if it wasn't for Levi, we would never have her under custody as well." He then noticed Armin was fidgeting.

 

"How is she, anyway? I mean, she did just lose her one family."

 

"It's not like he's dead, Jean. Also he's rich, and intelligent when he wants to. He's passionate and he almost convinced Levi about his defense." Jean snickered, thinking about Levi's face at being almost lied flawlessly to. "Since, without your testimony, we couldn't link him to the cases, we could only prosecute him for your stabbing. He got ten years, paid bail and now will serve social services. Of course none of this will go public. Of course he lost his medical license, but he's now going to teach at Princeton." Armin made a face. "This is an insult to what justice stands for."

 

Jean could relate.

 

"What did he even do to me?"

 

"Surprisingly, not much. He's a surgeon, he managed to stab you three times with minimal organ damage, uh... I'm sorry to say Levi did the most damage by moving you, it ruptured a major blood vessel and finished ripping a kidney." The tech informed him. He looked down, into some papers on his lap. "You've been out of it for a week and a half."

 

"So that's why I feel like could run a marathon." The agent joked, trying to alleviate the mood.

 

"Don't fuck about it, Jean. You could have died."

 

"But I didn't. Armin, _look here_. Told you I wouldn't let a crazy psycho off me, didn't I?" He breathed a little deeper, feeling where the knife grazed his lungs in his chest. His right hand scrambled and he felt Armin hand him the morphine button. He pressed it, and felt a numbness start creeping from his left elbow.

 

"Yeah, and look where it landed you, too."

 

"Sorry, Mr. Kirstein?" The nurse knocked on the door, coming in with his dietary plan, hello and a big flower arrangement. "You're gonna be on liquids and creams for the first week, so that your stomach becomes used to solid food again. Also, a young lady, Asian by the looks of her, left this for you." She pointed at the flowers, that she had put in a vase and, Jean noticed, had a small, generic 'get well soon' card. The nurse helped him to sit down, and he reached to the flowers first. The woman handed him the bouquet and excused herself.

 

There was something tied with the card, inside it. He gingerly opened it and saw a white gold and opal ring, with small diamonds in Swarovski cut incrusted in the band, and surprisingly not too big and overstated. It was clearly a family heirloom, with initials engraved inside. The two most recent were 'G&C' and 'E&J'. There was nothing written in the card, but he knew what this was.

 

"Hey, Armin, look at this." He showed the tech the ring.

 

"Secret fiancée we didn't know about?" The blond looked very confused.

 

"No, look inside, nerd." He tilted the ring, exposing the initials. "And touch it, for good measure, I still can't believe this."

 

Armin's eyes widened, and he looked elated and then deflated.

 

"We could use this to link him to the killings, since the lettering is the same as the plastic ring, but we can't accuse him of all the crimes he's been declared innocent of again." His look of dejection hurt, and Jean looked to his food, making a face and eating a spoonful. It tasted like piss, but a godly piss, so he let it slide.

 

"We just have to wait until he strikes again, right?"

 

Armin sighed.

 

"Somehow, I doubt he will be careless. He's managed to avoid getting caught this far, he doesn't look like the kind to get sloppy now."

 

Jean sighed, and twirled the ring in his hand before putting it down.

 

"Fuck, I shouldn't be so charmed by this shit."

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks and a half later, the doctor said he was fit to go. Jean was practically vibrating in his wheelchair, he was that ready to get out and enjoy the next week of paid leave.

 

"You need someone to stay with you?" Levi asked, and Reiner cracked his knuckles.

 

"No, I'm fine. Really." He got into the cab. "I don't think he meant to try and kill me." He exaggerated so that his boss knew he was joking.

 

"Hey, Jean." Reiner called after him. "Cool ring. Classy."

 

He smiled and touched the opal absent-mindedly.

 

"Thanks."

 


	2. Throw it away, forget yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW THIS IS UP FINALLY! i'd like to thank my sister's boyfriend, who came up with the single best sentence ever:  
> 'well if they're a good guy, they take a shot to the leg and die, if they're a bad guy they can be turned into a chicken fence and come out alive.'  
> and also thanks to rasputin, who got poisoned, shot, strangled, had his throat cut, was thrown in a river to drown and died of hypothermia. you are a great inspiration.
> 
> without furder ado, the chapter.  
> catsonfire knows what the title means thanks for putting up with my drunk ass yesterday.

Jean wheeled his way to the door. Not that he couldn't walk, but his doctor instilled in him a fear of the internal wounds reopening if he did a lot of heavy work. Weirdly, in his second day alone, as if a godsend (or maybe a hellsent creature, really), his neighbor the psychopath's step-sister knocked on his door offering him a pair of new bunny slippers with bells and a small jingle for his wheelchair, and help.

After that he got used to wheeling like a Christmas sleigh and walking like a Santa elf. Mikasa helped him with cooking and cleaning, and once or twice she even slept in his guest room.

"Eren's coming this weekend." She informed him out of the blue when he let her in that morning.

"Oh?" He asked, wheeling back to make way. "From Princeton?"

"No, he's coming from Nashville." She said, simply, not elaborating.

"What was he doing in Nashville?" He tried to keep the tone conversational, because that's what it was, a conversation. He wasn't questioning her, and he wasn't pressuring her.

"I don't know, I didn't ask." Mikasa put a bowl with chantilly on the counter, and started to prepare a small portion of brownies.

"You want help?"

"No, thank you."

"So, Mika-chan, how's Eren faring?"

The first time he called her 'Mika-chan', he thought she would glare his skin off. Now she just gives a long suffering sigh.

"He's whining. Says he misses you. Same as yesterday, really. He still doesn't have the balls to buy a disposable cell to call you." She whisks the light batter while adding a bit more chocolate and flour so it's more consistent.

"He should. It's not like the FBI can trace disposable cells, anyway. Tell him he's a jerk, putting me in a wheelchair and not even calling in the morning after."

Mikasa didn't even look up from mixing up the brownies. She slowly and deliberately put the batter in the mold, ignoring Jean's sick joke like it was routine (and it was), putting it in the preheated oven and setting the timer for 20 minutes. Only when the utensils and bowls were clean and dry and back in the cupboard, was that she turned to answer him.

"He doesn't have the capability of feeling guilty for that, you know."

"I know. Just tell him regardless. Maybe that'll give him that final push." Jean leaned back in his wheelchair, goofing around to distract himself from the utterly uselessness he felt from not being in the field.

"Or maybe it'll give him the impression that to get you to stay with him he needs to stab at you more often." She shook her head, digging into Jean's fridge and pulling out a pack of strawberries and vanilla ice cream, and pulling up the blender. She ripped the stem and threw the pack in the blender with half the tub. "You know, he's an idiot. He means well for the things he likes, but he doesn't deal well with the thought of rejection. He included calling the FBI on him as rejection, apparently." She said before turning on the blender.

"Glad I got the sisterly approval, then." He talked over the blender's noise.

He noticed in that moment that it wasn't that Mikasa ignored him when making food, it was just that her voice didn't carry as his and Eren's. That and she apparently weighed her every word, probably a consequence of years of abuse (weirdly not from her psychopath brother, to whom she spoke more candidly. He was a little hurt that she didn't trust him, but he'd live). She turned off the blender when it was down to a pasty pink cream and then the timer pinged.

"Didn't say I approved. I'm actually kinda worried about you. I think you're a decent guy, but I don't think you know where you're getting into." Putting the brownie mold on the marble counter, Mikasa turned to face him.

Jean smiled.

"Please, I deal with serial killers for a living. He caught me off guard."

"That's not what I mean." She pulled a knife and Jean twitched, mind fast tracking to what he could do if she decided to strike. But Mikasa simply set out to cutting the brownie into squares. "I'm worried I won't have my brother anymore."

Oh.

Now that was a backstabbing.

"I'm sure that won't happen, Mika-chan. From someone who worked with the BAU unit, he seems to be the obsessive type. Though they rarely seem to have two obsessions at the same time, but it isn't completely unheard of." He said in a reassuring tone.

"He better." She replied in a tone that highly suggested they were simply talking about a younger brother leaving home, not a psychopath hypothetically having or not two obsessions.

They ended up sleeping on Jean's living room, TV blaring some ridiculous talk show. Mikasa was curled up on his La-Z-Boy, and Jean was on his own sofa, bunny slippers on and his wheelchair on the other side of the room. He was relaxed how he hasn't been in years when his alarm went off.

"What the--" He went to full alert, getting up so quickly he felt something almost rip in his chest. He looked at Mikasa, who was awake and scared, and pulled out the magnum he hid in his coffee table's drawer. He made a silent motion for her to stay quiet, and she nodded. Slipping off the bunny slippers, he crept to the front door, typing the password in and turning on the lights.

And looking up the barrel of his gun were pretty green eyes on a pretty tan face.

"Eren what the fuck, you scared Mikasa and I."

"Mikarin is here? Oh, fuck, I didn't mean to." He probably didn't mean to scare them, but he didn't sound very sorry. "I just wanted to see you. Is she okay, though?"

"I'll be more okay if you don't pull this shit again, Onii-san." Mikasa said from behind them, throwing Jean's slippers on Eren's face.

"Wow, you put on weight." Eren hugged Jean, pinching his sides, pointing out that indeed, he had put on a few kilos.

"Yeah, well, you sister keeps me on the wheelchair whenever I complain about a bit of pain."

"Do you think of me?" 'Whenever you hurt' was implicit.

"Of course." Jean tensed up as Eren tightened his grip. "All the time."

"You're so good, babe." Eren mutters on his neck, quickly letting go and shoving Jean to the side so he could hug Mikasa. "Mikarin, I'm so happy!"

"I'm happy you remembered I exist." She mumbles.

"Mikarin, please. Don't do that." He said in a soft tone, but Mikasa tensed up a bit and Jean's grip on the Magnum tightened. "You're my sister, of course I remember you exist."

They relaxed a little, allowing room for a knowing smile from Jean.

"Told you."

They freeze when Jean's cellphone rings. He scrambles to grab it from the coffee table, pressing the accept button as quickly as he could.

"Agent Kirstein."

"Thank fuck. You alright, Kirstein? We registered your alarm going off." His supervisor's voice was heard from the earpiece.

"Nah, it's all alright. The neighbor’s cat was messing with my plants again."

"You're hiding something, your voice is shaky."

He took a deep breath. Calm down, he told himself. He could hear the clack of guns on the background.

"It's just... I thought it was something serious, it startled me. And then it clawed me out of nowhere." He was hoping Levi or Connie or Sasha, or whoever of his unit was there remembered that his neighbor Dawk's cat was declawed. He had complained at great length at being woken up at fuck o'clock by the cat's whining and trying to scratch his living room's window.

"... Alright, copy. We'll be there soon. Try not to get stabbed this time." He heard the sound of cards moving.

"It's really annoying indeed." He laughed uncomfortably. "Goodnight and good shift, sir."

Levi hang up on him.

Something cold and thin touched his back.

"Is everything okay, then?" Eren's voice was dangerously low.

"Yes. They know what they need to." Jean tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Great!" The brunet's voice was almost chipper. "Mikarin, can you leave us? I'll be okay."

She bowed obediently and left. Eren manhandled Jean until they were back in the living room and he Jean was bent backwards on the couch.

"I missed you so much." Eren said before he kissed Jean, the knife he was holding held seemingly carelessly on his belly.

Eren was so dominant Jean felt dizzy. When the brunet crawled up on his hips, he sighed on the other' mouth, bucking up mindlessly, like a slave responding to his master's will. He dropped his Magnum, for a second slightly panicked it would shoot, and melting in relief as it didn't. With both his hands free, he could grope at Eren, who keened when he squeezed his ass.

"Good, babe, so good..." Eren murmured, grinding down.

"Sweetie, do you want to suck me?" He tried to get his mind out of the near-paramilitary operation his boss was putting up this time, and what better than to get head.

"Yes, yes, it's been so long, so long, let me, please."

And he did. Eren was halfway down his torso, right hand on the hem of his sweatpants and the other holding securely the knife, when he stopped, and Jean looked up. Armin put a red dot on Eren's head from across the window, in the Dawks' yard, and Sasha was holding her two Glocks directly onto Eren's head.

"Drop the knife, Jäger, and maybe I'll let you go to jail for forever." Levi's smooth voice was heard from somewhere to their right.

"What if I don't?"

"Then either Armin will blow a hole in your head, or Sasha will, and I do believe your sister would much rather see you in jail."

Jean heard the metallic clink of a hunting knife falling to the ground. Sasha backed off a little, holstering her guns and motioning to cuff Eren.

It happened fast. The moment Sasha touched his wrists, Eren moved, ducking Armin's aim, turning around and flipping her over his shoulder, grabbing one of her Glocks on the way, and in the mess of limbs, he heard a sniper rifle bullet break his window and Sasha screaming. Levi shot, scraping the psychopath's arm, and Eren shot back in the general direction of the gun sound, miraculously hitting Levi's right leg. He could hear Reiner's stomping in, followed by the rest of the squad, and scrambled for his magnum, running after Eren barefoot.

"Stop right there, Eren." He said, loudly, catching him right outside in his backyard, trying to jump the fence.

"You're gonna shoot me, babe?" The mocking in his voice was clear.

"I don't want to. Please."

"Well, I don't want to go to jail. All those rotten, stupid, sick men who'd do better dead." Eren spat out, raising the gun.

"Eren, please. Don't make me do this." Jean pleaded, voice breaking. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will."

"I don't think you have the guts, babe." Eren smiled.

"Don't test me. Please."

Eren shot at Jean's feet, and as an automatic reflex, Jean shot Eren in the chest.

"No!" He screamed, throwing the magnum into his pool and running to Eren, chest pain be damned. He felt like the heart with a bullet was his own.

Jean kneeled next to Eren, pulling his head on his lap.

"You ac-- tually..." A cough and a dry heave. "... did it."

"Shh, don't talk." He turned around to see Petra rushing. "Call the fucking paramedics, Petra!" He couldn't help but notice she nodded but was complying as slowly as one could without seeming suspicious.

Help came suspiciously fast, though. When the paramedics were hoisting Eren's unconscious body in the ambulance, Mikasa put a hand on Jean's shoulder and went along in the car. He grabbed the nearest able agent (Petra) and dragged her to the nearest car.

"Follow that ambulance." He told her.

"Jean, he tried to kill you, twice."

"No, he fucking didn't." He informed the senior agent while he strapped himself to the passenger seat. "He shot and missed on purpose. No one with medical training stabs and misses vital organs. Now take me to the fucking hospital, now!"

\--------------------------------------------------

When Eren woke up, he was relatively sure he hadn't been shot in England. The TV was on BBC News, talking about some bullshit british reality show.

He looked to one side. Mikarin was there, sleeping on the couch, a book on her lap. Good, good girl.

He looked to the other side, and his heart monitor gave a few faster bleeps. Jean was there, sprawled on an extra couch, an iPad on his chest, and his iPhone in its girly-ass cover was blaring in his Beats earphones some shitty french pop. Eren smiled. His mother's ring was securely in Jean's left ring finger, and he idly noticed he had a golden band on his own left finger.

"Mikarin." He croaked, throat dry. The woman woke up at once, alert.

"Yes, Onii-san?"

"What happened after the shooting?"

"We went to the hospital, and as soon as you were in surgery, I caught a cab to our house and grabbed ours and Jean's bags, put it in the truck, and drove back. As soon as they stabilized you in surgery, Jean started calling the medical jets rental, and I called here, to reserve an ICU room." She narrated. "When they took you to the room, I asked them to put you in an induced coma, and arranged for inland transference, and hired the pilot and crew for overseas transference. Had to throw police off, so when they admitted you in hospital I gave Jean's last name as yours too. I slipped the wedding ring on your finger when the paramedics turned."

"Good." He mumbled.

"You know," Jean yawned to the other side, "You're so fucking lucky I found Mika-chan's folder with the plan. Don't make me shoot you ever fucking again." He grumbled, taking the earphones off.

"Thanks, babe. I fucking love you."

Jean scoffed.

"No, you don't, you can't."

Eren smirked weakly, the codeine in his blood still numbing him.

"Close enough, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY EASTER!  
> INSTEAD OF CHOCOLATE AND POT, I ACCEPT KUDOS AND COMMENTS OWO
> 
> I can be persuaded to write more on this universe, just hit up my inbox with something from this universe you wanna see more of! i'm capyshotas@tumblr \õ
> 
> science time tho: according to this book on psychopaths i borrowed from the library (it's a brazilian book idk if it has a translation), psychopaths are able of proto-emotions. meaning they are not capable of more complex emotions like guilt and love. they can be taught wrong from right, but since they can't feel guilt from doing the wrong thing, it's not a moral obligation to them. they're manipulative, charming and cruel at times. they are able of forming obsessions, which can look like love at first, but since human life holds no meaning for them, it's a lot like a small child who doesn't want to share their things.  
> a great spread of things can be why someone would willingly stay around a person like that.

**Author's Note:**

> i also want to thank YOU, DEAR READER, for reading this bullshit again!  
> the other version had a contradiction no one told me about, too!
> 
> please leave kudos and comment, i live for the applause at this point, living for the dreams have become expensive ;u;
> 
> (see that two i'm gonna post an extra chapter later this month yaassss)


End file.
